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The yellowing street lights of Paris illuminate the path to her apartment. Clutching a small designer handbag in one hand and a crinkly brown paper bag of bread in the other, Villanelle trudges home. She hates the time after a kill where she has to both get away as fast as possible and transform into a seemingly normal person. However, Paris had always been her favorite place to not only carry out jobs, but to live normally . She learned the ways of the people here over the past few years under Konstantin’s guidance. The way they dressed and walked the cobblestone paths. How the women have this certain French ambiance surrounding them, rich with luxury and suave. Those were the women Villanelle lusted over and tried to become.
Of course, her way of living didn’t allow her to do that. At least fully.
Villanelle reaches inside of her khaki jacket pocket and rustles out the dirty gold key. She gingerly lines it up with the keyhole and turns it until the click. Villanelle expects some music playing or random papers scattered across the floor like a book had been ripped up. Yet, an eerie stillness permeated the small one-bedroom apartment. It was as if someone casted a shadow into her home. However being alone isn’t the norm for Villanelle anymore, the darkness and ringing silence terrify her.
She drops her purse and bread onto the table then steps away for a moment. Villanelle scans the room for any sign of life. There might be someone hiding in here, and they might have taken the singular person she has ever truly cared about. Feeling vulnerable, Villanelle quickly takes the handgun out of her purse and holds it securely to her side, ready to shoot at any moment. She might’ve gone through the whole “killing your own mother” incident and haphazardly left the Twelve, but at her core, Villanelle is still an expert assassin and killer through and through.
The quiet maintains its hold then a creak cuts through the air. Villanelle immediately aims towards the sound and pulls the trigger, breaking the glass door leading to the balcony. Then, a chair leg scratches the floor outside and a set of abundant, dark brown curls angrily pop up through the hole in the balcony door.
“What the FUCK, Villanelle?! You can’t go shooting the fucking balcony like that!”
Villanelle purses her lip in both embarrassment and amusement. Now aware that Eve seems to be the only one in the apartment with her, Villanelle places the gun back on the table next to the bread and walks over to the cool balcony where Eve stands impatiently, arms crossed.
“You don’t go shooting at me, Villanelle!”
“Eve, now, don’t be mad. I was taking precautions, okay!” Villanelle leans closer to Eve and holds on to her crossed forearms, tugging on them so Eve would unfurl. Stubborn as ever, Eve seems to belligerently cross her arms tighter to her chest and glares at Villanelle with fury.
“I was having some tea, waiting for you to come home then bang! Villanelle, I swear to god, our history with shooting at each other has never gone well.”
Villanelle shakes her head and presses her palm to her forehead in slight frustration. When was she going to get over that?
“I am never getting over it.”
“Wait. Did I just say that out lo--”
“No, but I knew you were thinking it.”
Without missing a beat, Eve twirls around on her heel and walks back to their balcony to watch the twinkling lights appear in the sky. It had been late, and Villanelle did promise to be home about two hours earlier than she had arrived, so perhaps Eve’s anger was more about the false alarm shot. Villanelle follows her and leans against the cool black metal railing so that their upper arms graze lightly against each other.
A silent beat passes between them.
“Eve. What’s wrong? You’re being all weird about this.”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong. How about getting shot at by the person you were worried about?”
Villanelle’s eyes widen, and she inhales sharply by surprise. “You were worried about me?”
“Who the fuck else would I be worried about?” Eve deadpans. She digs both hands into her mane of curls and sighs loudly. “God Villanelle! You are such an asshole.”
“I am not.”
Eve turns wildly to face Villanelle, who does the same. They are ironically in the same position as they were on that bridge a few weeks ago when they promised each other they would walk away but couldn’t.
“Eve, I think you like fighting with me.”
“I really don’t, Villanelle. You are just annoying as fuck. I cannot wait until we get out of this small apartment, and I can finally get my own room.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes really. I was about to go out there and kill whoever it was myself so we can speed this hit up.”
“I can handle it on my own Eve, thank you very much. You wouldn’t have helped much anyways.”
“Sure about that? You couldn’t even kill Dasha without my help.”
Villanelle is taken aback and a bit ticked off by Eve’s comment. She can see the slight smirk brewing on Eve’s face, testing her. Usually, the roles would be reversed, but today is just full of new steps for the both of them.
“Oooh. Eve believes she is a big bad killer now,” Villanelle waves her arms in the air, sarcastically for dramatic effect as Eve’s sneaky smile turns into a frown. “Just because she axed Raymond and stepped on some old lady.”
“Shut the fuck up, Villanelle.”
Eve steps closer to Villanelle as if she is about to lash out at the taller, way more experienced woman. Villanelle stands taller and gazes down at Eve. She loves getting on her nerves more than anything in the world, so Villanelle presses on and licks her lips, ready for the challenge.
“Okay then. Make me.”
It is like the moment on the bus all over again. A heat flickers between them even as the cool Parisian air hits their reddening arms and faces, stinging with a chill. They didn’t even notice themselves getting closer to one another until their noses were breaths apart. Then Eve reaches up and aggressively cups Villanelle’s face and pulls her down so that their lips collide.
Villanelle closes her eyes and smiles as she feels Eve’s soft but greedy lips on hers. Eve wraps her arms around Villanelle’s neck tighter, and Villanelle leans back on the railing. As they part for a breath, Villanelle realizes that this was the first time Eve kissed her. A real kiss full of relief from worry and tension.
“Why do you always kiss me when we are fighting, Eve? That is an odd fetish.”
Eve shakes her head and scrunches her nose in fake annoyance then slaps Villanelle’s arm lightly.
“I was fucking worried, you know that?”
“You missed me so much, you just had to kiss me, huh?”
“Asshole.”
Rolling her eyes, she pulls Villanelle close again and clutches her hand to lead them both back into their apartment and into their shared bedroom. After closing the door behind them, Villanelle stops abruptly at the foot of their bed, and Eve furrows her brows in confusion. Villanelle purses her lips in thought and lets go of Eve’s hand for a moment.
“We should probably cover the hole in the balcony door.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”